


Broken: A Time Lord's Story

by CeeAre



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeeAre/pseuds/CeeAre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Good man Goes to War the Doctor makes a promise -- find Amy's baby. His search takes him to Regulus IV in the 42nd century where he’s kidnapped and brutally tortured. A young telepathic girl fights in secret to keep him alive while forced to tend to his wounds. A desperate attempt to escape goes wrong, separating the two and landing him far from help on Earth in the 21st century.  Surrounded by strangers, with his mind broken and his body ravaged, how will he survive? Will his friends be able to find him in time? Will he find justice or seek revenge against those who brutalized him? Follow the Doctor through his own personal hell. This Doctor Who story is  a story with mature themes including the difficulty of recovering from a violent crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken: A Time Lord's Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rangersyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangersyl/gifts).



> Part One: Crimes against a Time Lord

Even bundled against the bitter cold, a shiver ran through the Doctor as he stood on the snow covered knoll. A few hundred yards away, stood the group of empty buildings that to this day haunted his nightmares. The moisture in his breath froze with each exhalation. He scanned the surrounding landscape -- looking for .... Looking for what exactly? Fresh snow made everything look so very clean. How could that be? How could the universe ever make this place clean? He glanced down at the small black object in his hands. Its lightness should have made it feel like almost nothing, but instead, it felt heavy, making his hand ache with its weight. For almost a minute, he fiddled with the thing, caressing it almost lovingly, ghosting his thumb over a small button, wanting nothing more than to push, but not yet. It wasn't time.

Somewhere behind him, a person stamped their feet against the frozen layer of snow. The sound snapped his attention back to the small group clustered around him. He'd almost forgotten they were waiting, watching to see what he would do. He loved them for coming, but their reason for doing so twisted his stomach.

He wondered why. _Do they think I'm going to fall apart?_

A girl stood beside him, just a mere slip of a thing -- sweet, kind. She was watching too. He smiled lovingly at her, gently squeezed her hand, then handed her the object. He kissed the top of her head, whispered something that only she could hear and began walking away from the group ... toward the compound. His action caught the people behind him by surprise, bringing immediate nervous chatter and silly questions.

"What's he doing?"

"Where's he going?"

"Just stay here. I'll make sure he's okay."

 _Do they think I'm deaf? Why can't they all just shut up?_ he thought. He picked his pace up to a trot, leaving the voices behind.

He headed for the second building, just to the left of the main house. Despite heavy snowfall during the night, the road had been cleared, making the journey easier. The closer he got to his target, the faster his hearts raced. He could feel them pounding in his ears. Sweat beaded on his forehead. How was that even possible in this cold? He dried his sweaty palms on his overcoat.

He was only a few feet from his target now. The thick walls of the concrete building were pock marked by explosions and laser fire, but otherwise virtually undamaged in the raid that night. One door had managed to remain on its hinges.

It only took a moment and then he was in front of the heavy wooden door. His hand on the knob, he leaned his head against the thick wood and forced himself to breathe deep to calm his racing hearts. He swallowed hard, forcing the contents of his stomach back down where it belonged. This was stupid: it was just an empty building. It meant nothing... should mean nothing.

 _God, my head hurts_ , he thought.

Someone came up behind him. He wrenched away from the unexpected hand on his shoulder.

_Why can't they leave me alone?_

He pushed the door back against the heavy build up of snow in the doorway letting sunlight stream in, casting long shadows ahead of him. Before he stepped into the long hallway, he took a deep breath. The cold air made the burning in his lungs worse. This place was empty now, but his senses were almost overwhelmed by the smell and echoes.

The damnable echoes.

Each leaden footstep down the quiet hallway made his body feel as if someone had strapped him into a cyber suit. He wanted to turn and run, but he took the next step and then the next. The shadows had odd shapes creating an even heavier air to the place.

He could still hear her voice. How was that possible?

He cast a nervous glance in the direction of the dozen rooms that lined the hallway. Some had their doors blown off the hinges. He only remembered one pain filled voice ever coming from those rooms.

Every step past seemed to take an eternity.

The hand was back. "Doc, you don't have to do this."

But he did. He did have to do this. What choice did he have?

Why can't they understand?

He said nothing as he pulled away, forcing himself to keep walking. The room he sought was next to the last on the right; its door stood open, beckoning him inside. It didn't look any different. Shouldn't it be different?

The moment he stepped in, the room began to swirl like a carnival ride that he'd rode once -- back on Earth with Rose. It felt as if he were swimming through a sea of mud just to force his way into the middle. He stopped next to the wooden table, gingerly running his fingers across it's surface. Dried, dark spots still dotted the top. It was all here. How could it all still be here?

_Is that my dried blood?_

His brain hurt.

He tried so hard for so long to keep tight, careful control, but now -- deep rage erupted up from the depths of his soul. He didn't feel the edge of the table in his hands or hear the wood as it shattered against the wall. He didn't feel the pain caused by the flying bits hitting against his skin when he grabbed a table leg, smashing what remained into nothingness. He didn't feel the hands that held him as he dropped to his knees, screaming. He remembered.

He remembered everything.

 

*******

 

By their twentieth stop, the TARDIS had grown tired of planet hopping. Regulus IV was now their 30th since Demons Run. Thief spent his days on each planet chasing lead after lead in search of baby Melody. Sometimes, he came so close that he swore he could hear the baby call for him. No matter how cautiously he tracked the woman, Kovarian's intelligence reports always tipped her that he was coming. The damn agents left him a half step behind his enemy. It was, with some pleasure that, he at least managed to make life difficult for Kovarian. She bounced all over the 42nd century while trying to shake his pursuit.

This time, they were on Regulus IV. The TARDIS landed gently, fully aware that exhaustion left Thief muddled and potentially careless. She wanted to ignore his wishes and prevent him from making this stop. If she wanted, she knew that she could strand him in the vortex forcing him to rest. He wouldn't like it, but she could still do it. He was upset enough though, and the TARDIS dutifully materialized on a rise above Borel, the governmental seat for the province of K'Bal. Shades of purples and gold tipped the region's trees. A chill in the air meant Autumn had come to this region of the planet. Since Thief was too distracted, she ran a quick environmental check, and then made sure his overcoat was in clear sight.

The Doctor sat on the jump seat under the console, slowly swinging back and forth, listening to his phone ring. He considered answering, but let it go to voice mail. He wasn't happy when the Ponds made him add that little feature, but now he was grateful. It made the whole not answering thing much easier. For the last few weeks, the Ponds knew every lead, every effort made to find their daughter. He honestly did try to keep his promise, but he wasn't fast enough. There weren't as many people afraid of him as Kovarian and the people she worked for. Today, he just didn't have it in him to disappoint them. He couldn't bear the sadness in Amy's voice.

This tip was dodgy anyway, picked up in a bar on a backwater asteroid in the Treveh system, known for catering to criminals. He did over hear gossip that someone was looking to get their hands on the TARDIS, but that just gave him a good laugh. The crucial lead described a human woman with a child, not hers, travelling in the company of well-armed guards. Finding Melody was all that counted. He had promised on his life and intended to keep it. The mere chance, it could be Melody outweighed his concern anyone would be stupid enough to steal his ship. After House, he made sure that would never happen again.

The phone went silent.

The Doctor stood up, rubbed his hands over his face in a vain effort to pull his head together, and set about putting new security protocols in place. Common sense told him the TARDIS was in no danger, but he was taking no chances with his oldest friend. After taping a holographic message for the Ponds, he apologised to his old girl and broke their link. He could feel her distress coming at him in waves.

"Better safe than sorry, eh," he whispered to her in a throaty voice when he headed out the door.

Opening the door sent a rush of crisp, cold air inside the ship making him reach for his overcoat. He stood next to the TARDIS surveying the township below. A bit of research showed Borel as a contemporary, bustling 42nd century town, home to off-worlders and native-born alike. The locals were humanoid with avian features. Feathers covered the tops of their heads and their bodies, leaving their faces and hands decidedly human in appearance. Wings lay neatly folded against their backs; most natives wore capes to cover them. The style started when the world first opened, with the teens wanting to blend in with off-worlders. It wasn't long before it became common.

The Doctor wandered through the town admiring the sleek, minimalist architecture that obviously catered to the needs of the native species. He couldn't help but give kudos to the local government for the enormous effort of keeping the entire landscape filled with trees. His research on the local community showed that few residents maintained gardens, relying instead on a lovely public parks system where they could safely fly. He ambled down a neighbourhood street, heading for the centre of town, noting the round homes high up on stilts that, undoubtedly, must have provided a race of flyers with a sense of security. Few natives would want to spend the night in the ground level buildings meant for the off-worlders. For the natives, the odd shaped buildings must seem a blight on the landscape.

Hover transports made their way through the streets, avoiding areas clogged by visitors in town for the local Harvest festival. Weaving his way through the crowded streets past vendors and festival goers made the Doctor's journey almost fun. He passed a young couple selling sun catchers that looked like the local constellation, and stopped to buy a couple for Amy. They'd look fantastic hanging in her kitchen window. He hoped the trinkets would serve as a reminder of the fun they all had before Pandorica.

The Pandorica.

Nothing had gone right after that -- not really. The universe repaid the Doctor for the re-boot, by declaring a war that he didn't want or understand. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he tucked the trinkets in his pocket and walked further on toward the H'rau district, in the centre of town.

The crowded district provided the con artist, thief or worse, the opportunity for business and a safe place for conducting it. Since Regulus IV opened up to off-worlders, the district had grown from humble origins as a local pain in the neck to the law, to a true haven for inter-galactic criminals. Information could be bought and sold with the same ease as Maldanion diamonds. In the old days, the canal offered an easy escape route for sea-faring criminals. Now, with transmat technology available, criminals thought they could come and go as they pleased. The increase in crime sparked the provincial government to install a state of the art monitoring system. It was for this reason the Doctor chose a little café off the canal to meet his contact. Heavily monitored by the local constabulary, the CCTV gave him, his best chance of showing up on someone's video screen if things went dicey. At least, that was the plan.

Weaving his way, through the crowd, he found the café just as the afternoon lunch crowd hit. The patrons spilled out to the patio, jostling for tables. Finding one inside proved difficult. It took twenty minutes before one with a clear view of both the front and rear exits opened up. Grabbing it, he sat down to wait for his contact. The man, a small, beady-eyed alien known as the Charmer came highly recommended for information about this planet in general and Borel in particular. The Doctor crossed his gangly legs, and waited for the man to show.

The Doctor hated waiting. This incarnation bordered on hyper. Within minutes, his foot began to tap impatiently. Thirty minutes later, getting rude looks from the management, he opted to get something to eat. The contact might still show. He couldn't afford to miss him because management threw him out for not ordering. So he ordered something that looked like chicken. At least he hoped it was chicken. Picking at it, he spent the next hour waiting.

Finally giving up, he left the café, angry that he wasted credits on a no-show, and a lousy lunch. The Doctor headed back out to the crowded street. A certain blue bar owner would definitely refund his money, and pay for the time he had wasted.

The bright afternoon sun reflected off the windows. Anyone outside without sun-shades probably regretted it. The Doctor certainly did, realizing within minutes that he was getting just a bit of a headache. He'd have to remember to take something when he got back to the TARDIS.

Another half block he was feeling properly sick. He should have known better than to eat lunch in a dive. He managed another two blocks before the waves of dizziness and nausea hit again. He leaned against a brick wall, closed his eyes, and waited for the dizziness to pass. His stomach churned and threatened to erupt.

 _God I'm bloody thick_ , he thought whilst leaning against the wall.

The last Time Lord, so-called champion of the universe, couldn't tell when something tainted his food. How pathetic was that? What the bloody hell did they stick in that chicken? The Doctor pushed away from the wall and started walking. He had to get back to his ship. He managed another block, reaching out occasionally for support before realising, he was in big trouble. It was getting difficult to think coherently. He couldn't recognize what they used.

He should ask someone for help, but the words wouldn't form in his head. Pain pounded in his temples. He managed to stay on his feet for another three minutes before the dizziness forced him once again to lean against the wall of an abandoned store front. He tried to bring the faces of the crowd into focus. They were all a blurred sea, laughing at him. The sounds of the district roared in his head. His stomach churning, he gulped air to keep it from erupting. He felt as if he'd climbed Mount Lung. Unable to stand, he slid down the brick wall barely aware that strangers hands grabbed him. His last coherent thought, as the hands pushed him into a ground transport, were about River. How was he going to explain his stupidity to her? How was he going to explain ignoring the warnings?

River would be really, really cross.


End file.
